


My Leading Star

by northblossom



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I cried while writing this, I'm so sorry, M/M, enjoltaire - Freeform, enjoltaire oneshot, soft!enjolras, they die but it ends well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northblossom/pseuds/northblossom
Summary: It's the eve of the final battle, and Grantaire is torn. He is in no way unsure of what he has to do, he just doesn't know what's justified for him to be feeling. Trapped between two awful, yet absolutely possible outcomes. He's scared, worried sick. But it's not his own life he's afraid of losing.





	My Leading Star

Paris was silent. A hard, black sky blinded the people in the city, and fear kept them quiet. The red, white and blue flags that hung on the buildings along the cobblestone street had been taken down. Some would assume that the people living in those houses had been discouraged by the brutality of the first attack. It was understandable. Many of the boys had gone silent. Marius hadn’t said anything at all since then, but no one blamed him for that. Courfeyrac had gone somewhere else to take some time for himself, asking his friends not to look for him, promising he'd be back by midnight. An eerie silence hung over the barricade, which felt misplaced and unusual. Some were talking, some were drinking, but whatever they did, they did so without making too much noise.

Usually, Grantaire would find himself indulging in the latter of the two, and he was. A lot of the time, he’d hear the boys joking about what a drunkard he was, and he could never really disagree. For once, however, he was drinking in a desperate attempt to stop thinking straight, rather than just doing it because he had nothing better to do. He hadn’t worried so much before the first attack. He’d thought of it as a “do as you’re told and all will go swimmingly” sort of agreement, which meant he hadn’t worried about anyone other than himself. Seeing death up close, however, had given him a wake-up call. 

Grantaire wiped the tears from his face, taking another long swig from the green glass bottle he was holding. The man leant his head back against a conveniently stacked drawer behind himself. He didn’t like crying; it wasn’t something he did often. He’d been branded by the other boys as a comic-relief friend, which he couldn’t disagree with, either. On that night, however, he simply couldn’t cheer up, no matter how hard he tried. He’d realised that the second the battle started, he’d have no means to ensure anyone’s safety. He used the word “anyone” in his head to rid himself of the guilt of having a favourite among his friends, but there was only one name on his mind. 

He knew that no one would be able to talk Enjolras out of fighting. He’d been talking about this for months, hell, even years. None of the boys ever questioned his loyalty to the idea of a better France. The few unlucky souls who’d tried in the past had been met with hostility, so they’d all learned to never question him again. That was part of the reason why Grantaire was so discouraged. He understood that there was no point in even trying to pull him out of the fight, and not being able to ensure his safety made it all so much worse. The dark-haired man clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt ridiculous for being so totally in shambles about something he had no way of changing. He’d realised a long time ago that he was likely to die at some point during all this fighting, and he’d accepted it without any problem. The moment Enjolras first asked him to join the fight, he’d said yes right there and then. He didn’t consider the consequences for a second. He’d never really been afraid of death, so dying for a cause he didn’t believe in didn’t sound too bad. It was the right thing to do, after all. As long as it meant Enjolras would approve of him, Grantaire was more than willing.

The only thing he was afraid of was the idea of losing Enjolras. The blonde man had been his lighthouse for so long, he’d been a leading star for him to follow. To say he looked up to the man would be a vast understatement. He wished that he could have the same passion for the cause as Enjolras had, but he supposed their difference was part of why he liked the man so much. His favourite activity had become listening to the blonde’s passionate speeches. The blaze that flared up in his eyes when he spoke had become Grantaire’s favourite thing to admire. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without Enjolras. Tears started streaming down his face at the thought. He stared blankly ahead, cursing himself for being so soft. Grantaire was very aware that he couldn’t afford to be emotional, but he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t look too happy,” came a voice from the doorway of the closest building. Grantaire lifted his gaze and met Joly’s eyes, a bit startled by his sudden approach. 

“Sorry,” the dark haired man said quickly, wiping his tears away. “It’s the rain…” he explained, gesturing to the clear sky. Joly held his palm up towards the sky, and his suspicions were confirmed. It wasn’t raining. Joly walked over and sat down next to Grantaire on a slightly askew table.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked cautiously. He was unsure of how to approach the older man when he was like this; he’d never seen Grantaire upset before.

Grantaire took a long, long time to answer. He’d assumed most of the other boys already knew about his attraction to their chief; he’d never put effort into keeping it a secret. He didn’t care if people knew, but he didn’t know what to say to Joly.

“Nervous,” he replied, shrugging. It was only a half-truth.

Joly chuckled before taking the glass bottle out of Grantaire’s hands and taking a sip. He held onto it for a little, weighing it in his hands, before handing it back. The younger man stayed quiet for a while.

“What’s _ really _ on your mind?” he asked, looking up at the man. He couldn’t be sure, but he had a strong feeling it wasn’t just nerves on his mind. Seeing as he’d never seen Grantaire cry before, he figured it’d take more than that to upset him _ this _ much.

Grantaire took a long swig of the wine in the bottle. He wanted to open up to Joly, of course he did. While he tended to be warm and affectionate with all the boys in the group, Joly was one of his closer friends. He felt just a little guilty for finding it so difficult to open up to him.

“There’s nothing I can do to keep him from fighting.” Grantaire spoke before he had the time to think, his lips brushing against the top of the bottleneck.

Letting out a breath, Joly almost immediately understood what was plaguing Grantaire’s mind. He was actually surprised he hadn’t guessed it earlier.

“Enjolras?” Joly asked quietly, raising his eyebrows at the older man. 

The sound of his name was enough to break Grantaire. He handed the glass bottle he was holding back over to Joly and buried his head in his own hands, holding back sobs. His shoulders started trembling and he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

“What’s going on here?” another voice asked, and Grantaire didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He’d recognize Enjolras’ beautiful, clear voice anywhere; it was like music to his ears. Grantaire shook his head. The very last thing he wanted was for the blonde to see him like this, but here they were. He felt a pat on his shoulder from Joly. When Grantaire finally looked up and met Enjolras’ gaze, he noticed that Joly had left, leaving him alone with the blonde. Great. 

“What’s gotten into you, R?” Enjolras asked softly as he sat down next to Grantaire, placing a hand on his shoulder. He felt like he had to be cautious, too. Grantaire looked so fragile.

The dark haired man wished he had more alcohol on hand, but he spared himself of the trouble of looking for the bottle. He figured Joly must’ve taken it with him.

“Nerves,” he replied. He didn’t think for a second that he’d be able to fool Enjolras, he just needed to buy some time for himself. Enjolras shook his head.

“Don’t try it, R, I know you better than that,” he said, an amused tone in his voice. 

Enjolras assumed Grantaire was getting second thoughts about fighting. He knew that the lad didn’t believe in the cause. Although he’d never questioned Grantaire about it, he did find it puzzling that he wanted to fight regardless. 

He couldn’t blame the lad for getting scared. They’d seen death up close today, closer than they wanted it to have come. There was no doubt, Enjolras was scared too, of course he was. He wasn’t a machine, however much he wanted to come across as one.

If Grantaire was too scared to fight, Enjolras wouldn’t be angry. He couldn’t force the lad to die for a cause he didn’t believe in.

“Getting second thoughts, or?” Enjolras asked, curious of whether or not his suspicions were correct.

The last thing Grantaire wanted was for Enjolras to think that he was backing out of the fight. He didn’t believe in the cause, he never had and never would, but he believed in Enjolras, and that was enough. Grantaire would have followed Enjolras to the end of the world and back if he only asked for him to.

“No, it’s not that,” Grantaire said quickly, looking up at Enjolras with a small sniffle. 

“Then tell me,” Enjolras pried, squeezing Grantaire’s shoulder. “I might be able to help, you know,” he added softly.

The words came out of Grantaire’s mouth before he had the time to weigh them properly. 

“The battle today woke me up,” he said, furrowing his brows. “Seeing that all of this is really happening…” Grantaire’s voice cracked. “I’ve never thought of the consequences before.”

Enjolras scooted a little closer, his arm resting across Grantaire’s shoulder blades. The blonde decided to voice his thoughts on whether or not the lad should be fighting.

“R,” he began, his voice quiet. “It’s alright if you want to back out. I know you don’t believe-”

Grantaire cut him off.

“No, it’s not that!” He was getting frustrated now, he didn’t know how to harness all these feelings inside his head. There were so many things he wanted to say to the blonde. 

“I don’t care that I don’t believe in the cause. I believe in _ you. _I’ll fight beside you, gladly die if I have to.” His breathing was heavier. Enjolras squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s you I’m afraid of losing,” Grantaire said, an almost harsh tone in his voice. His eyes filled up with tears again. 

“Grantaire…” Enjolras said softly, some kind of guilty feeling in his chest.

“I care about you, Enjolras, that’s all I do these days.” Grantaire looked up at Enjolras as he spoke. He wanted to see his face, it made it easier for him to know when he should stop talking.

“I know there’s no keeping you from fighting, so I’m not going to try to convince you,” he continued. “I’m just…” Grantaire took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m so fucking scared.” 

Enjolras stayed quiet this time. He didn’t know if the pause happened because Grantaire didn’t have more to say, or because he was thinking his words up on the go. Assuming it was the latter of the two, he squeezed the man’s shoulder encouragingly and placed his other hand on his knee.

“It’s terrible knowing that you could die in the next attack, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, covering his eyes with his hand. “I don’t want to live in a world without you. I can’t do that,” he continued, finally meeting Enjolras’ gaze. “You’re my leading star, you’re my everything. I can’t.”

The blonde man’s eyes welled up with tears. He knew that Grantaire cared about him, but he never thought it’d be to this extent.

“R, you know I have to do this,” Enjolras said quietly, afraid his voice would break if he spoke any louder. 

All Grantaire could do was nod. He couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, and a sob escaped his lips. 

“Hey, hey,” Enjolras said quickly. He cupped Grantaire’s face with gentle movements and turned his head so he could see his eyes. No matter how much Enjolras wanted to cry with him, he forced himself to smile with tears in his eyes. That’s what he’d told himself he had to do. He had to keep the faith, or no one else would. That was his duty as the leader of the group. 

“Don’t cry, R, please, don’t cry,” he whispered. It hurt his heart to see Grantaire like this. He was always so happy, always smiling and cheering everyone else up. Enjolras tried to think, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing Grantaire cry before. It felt so wrong, seeing his happy friend so broken.

Enjolras’ words hurt like daggers. All Grantaire wanted was to be strong for him, but no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible.

“It’s for a better France, you know that,” Enjolras continued, wiping Grantaire’s tears away with his thumb. “If I die, it’ll be worth it. It’ll be for the cause.” 

Grantaire waited a bit before answering. “And that’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked. He already knew the answer. “To die for a better France?” 

“That’s what I want,” Enjolras replied plainly. He figured there was no use in putting it any other way. He felt it was his duty to get something done about the state of France. If dying for the country was one of his options, Enjolras considered it an honourable way to go. 

“Right.” Grantaire nodded. “Then I want the same,” he said with all the confidence that he could muster. 

“Brave lad,” was all Enjolras could say as he pulled Grantaire into a tight hug. They sat like that for a couple of minutes before letting go, leaning their backs against the drawer behind them. Enjolras let his hand rest on Grantaire’s knee, telling himself he only did it because he was too lazy to move his hand. To their great disappointment, there were no stars in the sky to look at that night.

Grantaire fell asleep like that, on the barricade next to Enjolras. He hadn’t slept well in a long while, and having the blonde next to him made him feel safe, like he could relax. When Enjolras noticed that the lad next to him had fallen asleep, he decided he’d carry him inside one of the buildings. Sleeping in that position was going to kill his back, and Grantaire wasn’t very heavy, so Enjolras didn’t worry about it. Picking the lad up as gently as he could, Enjolras carried him inside the middle building, laying him down on top of a small couch on the second floor. They’d wanted to use that couch for the barricade, but it was either incredibly heavy or nailed to the floor, for whatever reason. Before walking away, Enjolras gently stroked a curly lock of black hair away from Grantaire’s forehead. Enjolras stood in the doorway for a little, fondly looking at the sleeping Grantaire. For a moment, he wished the dark haired man wasn’t so eager to risk his life for a cause he didn’t believe in. He pushed the thought to the back of his head as he realised it wasn’t his place to question anyone’s motivations. 

Enjolras turned and left the room, wondering what the future would bring for the both of them.

-

Grantaire’s eyes snapped open. The piercing sounds of gunshots and screams had woken him up. He sat upright, his ears ringing and his head pounding, and discovered to his horror that there were police in the street outside. What the hell had he missed? Had he seriously slept through a second attack? The word “attack” in his head reminded him of what he was _ really _concerned about. Enjolras. 

There were a thousand questions spinning in Grantaire’s head as he stumbled to his feet. What time was it? Where was Enjolras? Was he okay? Had Enjolras carried him up here the prior night? He walked over to the middle of the room, and several of his questions were immediately answered. Enjolras stood proudly in front of the window, the red flag in his hand. There were at least six guards taking aim with their guns on him.

“Wait!” Grantaire cried out, pushing the guards aside to take his place next to Enjolras. He walked with his eyes fixed on Enjolras’, stumbling as though he was in a daze. The only things that existed in his world at that moment were himself and Enjolras. He tripped over something as he walked, but he knew better than to look down and check what - or rather who - it was.

“Shoot me, too. Vive la France,” he said as he took his place, his head held high. He looked over to Enjolras. “Do you permit it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand with a smile as he held his flag up high, a triumphant expression on his face. Grantaire squeezed the blonde’s hand three times, his way of telling him how much he loved the man. He felt the blonde squeeze back twice before gunshots rung in his ears and the room faded into black. 

Grantaire opened his eyes and all he could see was white. Squinting, he scanned the room and found that it looked empty, but he couldn’t be sure. The room was illuminated by a bright, ethereal light, too white to be candlelight and too cold to be sunlight. It was dark outside, and the sky was littered with stars. He panicked at first, thinking he might have ended up in some kind of hospital, but the place was too clean for it to be that, too otherworldly. The man tried to sit upright, but discovered quickly that he was already standing up.

“Enjolras?” he tried, his voice hoarse. In response, he received a third and final squeeze around his hand. He looked to the side and met Enjolras’ gaze. 

“Is that you, Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, not sure if he was hallucinating or not.

“So it would seem, R,” came the response. Enjolras looked worn, but happy. He’d died for the cause like he wanted to.

“Where are we?” Grantaire asked, not sure what to make of the white room.

“Heaven?” Enjolras suggested. It was the first word that came to mind.

Grantaire smiled. “I didn’t know you believed in heaven,” he said softly.

“I don’t,” Enjolras chuckled, meeting Grantaire’s gaze. He didn’t seem bothered about the fact that they’d just died. He figured it was going to hurt way more, so he was relieved, if anything. “We didn’t win,” he continued, looking over his shoulder at the night sky outside. He didn’t struggle as much as he thought he would with admitting to himself that they lost. They’d tried their best. No one were expecting the cannons, and Enjolras firmly believed they’d all fought valiantly until the bitter end. 

“_ I _ did,” Grantaire said earnestly. “I’m still next to you, aren’t I?”

Enjolras could do nothing but smile as he brought Grantaire in for another tight embrace. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! i appreciate all feedback, positive and negative <3


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